


Monsters of the Flesh

by NoxKore



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Abduction, Action/Adventure, Alcohol, Angst, Bosmer Dragonborn, Children, Comedy, Confessions, Death, Dreams and Nightmares, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Eventual Romance, F/M, Harm to Children, Mage, Night Terrors, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Self-Harm, Skyrim Romance Mod, Slow Burn, Violence, War, Weapons, female wood elf, female wood elf nord, fire mage, jerall mountains, nomads, the SLOWest burn like starting from absolute zero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoxKore/pseuds/NoxKore
Summary: This is the story of a young wood elf named Alfsol. Her time on Nirn has been short and yet she has seen and done things others could not even fathom. She meant for her time spent in Skyrim to be quick and the last, but the situation has changed. Her path was already dark beforehand, but now it seems impossible... or could it finally lead her to her freedom?Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, Bishop, Karnwyr, or any other character created by Skyrim or SkyrimRomance. The SR mod is owned by Mara.SkyrimRomance is a fantastic romance/follower mod in my opinion and everyone should check it out.Skyrimromance.com





	1. Prologue Part 1

    The cold bit into the Bosmer woman's skin as she trudged through the snow. The Jerall Mountains were treacherous for a lone elf, but the woman knew she had to get to Cyrodil soon. Away from all of the memories that Skyrim harbored. Away from the Nordic wolf man that she let herself run rampant with. She had told herself it was only natural to want to be free of concerns and only focus on desires as long as it was not often.

     Looking down the mountain, she let herself reminisce of the events that took place this last fall and winter. The man himself was absolutely majestic, especially for a Nord. With a race filled with brutes and wenches alike, he stood out from the rest. Broad as a tree trunk, but with a silver tongue to match any khajiit merchant. She had watched in awe as he tore bandits apart with his claws, showering in their blood. Never in her life had she seen such raw power and it was attractive to her. The woman soon felt the animal need to be with him even if nothing came of it. This was not about seeking out a significant other nor someone who she could share her deepest emotions and secrets with. This was simply physical.

     She had approached him within a fortnight of meeting him. He seemed to agree with her about having certain needs as he threw her on his furs and covered her body with his. She was smaller than most peoples of the mer and men races, but next to him her height greatly paled in comparison to the point it was almost amusing. Despite anatomical differences, the two found enjoyment in each others' embrace, easily sensing what the other wanted. That first night would forever burn in her mind as would the other nights spent with him.

     She could have lost herself forever and stayed with him as a wondering couple in Skyrim. She could even feel the spark of true love for him starting to ignite deep within her chest. Not just the compassion he invoked in her come nighttime, but the insatiable demand to always be with him and to see him safe. The Bosmer woman had come to realize this love one morning in their makeshift animal hide tent when there was a tiny bump that came from within her abdomen. She at first clenched her body, taken aback by surprise. Again, she felt movement within her along with a wave of nausea.

     Startled, the mer decided to lay back down on the deerskin and examine the area where the motions had come from. Her lightly tanned skin just above her pelvis had stretched slightly over a very small mound. The lump was barely noticeable unless she laid flat on her back and thoroughly checked the area. The Bosmer let out a low, terrified gasp. The Nord and her had taken what precautions they could...except for the first night in their hastened passion.

     There was a soft thud from outside the tent and she heard her lover's laugh of triumph. He yelled for her to come outside and see what he had bagged for them for breakfast. Hesitantly, she got up and walked out of the tent. Should she tell him? The Nord stood proud over a large dead stag remarking that it may last longer than breakfast. The Bosmer woman just stared at him, expressionless. He asked what was wrong, but all she could do was look at him and then the stag and finally back at him. This was the only life he knew, but this was not the life for her child. His face slowly started to show concern, but she stopped him by replying with she did not know how they were going to store all that meat. He simply just chuckled. That night, she would leave him.

     The new mother pushed back all the memories to the back of her mind and continued up the mountain path. She knew that nothing else mattered, but to shelter this gift bestowed upon her by Anui-El. Even if it meant giving up the man she grown to love and care for. The growing blossom within her would not wilt in the unforgiving, frozen land known as Skyrim.


	2. Prologue Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, Bishop, Karnwyr, or any other character created by Skyrim or SkyrimRomance. The SR mod is owned by Mara.  
> SkyrimRomance is a fantastic romance/follower mod in my opinion and everyone should check it out.
> 
> Skyrimromance.com

     The night began to crawl faster across the sky as the sun became but a sliver over the western mountain range. The Bosmer lady used to beg for the night to come sooner less than a year before, sometimes even sleeping whole days just to play in the shadows at night. Now the creeping darkness forebode of dangers to come. The Jerall Mountains were not something to be caught in at night, especially for a weighed down female great with child. His seed had bore her a healthy, active babe. Even in the womb, her small one bounced about and stretched as if to make clear that it was there.

     Some miles away, the distinctive howl of a wolf broke through the wind and snow. The mother put her hands over her stomach protectively, walking faster up the pathway. She would be damned if her and the little one became nothing but meat for the wild hounds. The fetus pushed out hard as if to agree and the woman had to laugh at her child's attitude. The woman thought one could only be proud at the energy of such a small thing, but maybe this was just her motherhood making her bias. Even as the inevitable night began to engulf all of Skyrim, a smile broke across the Bosmer's face because she knew she carried all the light she needed.

     More of the wolves began to sing though, sensing that there was prey about. With that, the babe kicked more forceful than ever and the Bosmer doubled over in pain. A warm, thick liquid began to trick down her thigh. Too thick to be water. As she laid on the snowy earth, she knew the importance of keeping silent. More important than when the slavers had beat her. Or when the Altmer had come yet again to Valenwood, to 'cleanse' the land when it was just a facade to kill the children of the Green. Y'ffre please forgive her, she thought as she screamed in agony against her will. The creatures of night surely knew of her now and she could tell they did as there was now a hunger to their song.

     Tears streaming down her face, on all fours she continued on up the path and readied her dagger. The same blade she had used to slit the throat of that one handsy High Elf master. 'Mercy' was what she aptly named the dagger, giving its namesake to her and her victims for years. The first wolf came at her head on. Just a pup, she mused as she plunged the dagger into its neck. The stupid pup died with a whimper, but soon enough his pack came. She thought of her lover as she ducked away from a wolf that vaulted out from off the side. He used to fling these animals about like they were nothing but pebbles. Finally, the pack leader made his presence known to her and the others stilled.

     His silver eyes gleamed in the moonlight almost like two small moons themselves as he lowered his grey head in a challenge. The Bosmer knew she was fighting a losing battle and he knew it all the same. One last stand and then we will lie in rest, she thought to her child. A feral growl came out of her to meet the alpha's challenge. The male lunged straight for her and high. He was cocky, she thought, leaving his belly wide open for an attack from beneath. The wolf's front paws were almost on her shoulders and his muzzle about to clamp down on her neck, but instead it gave a sharp yelp when he was suddenly thrown off of her. A dark form of a very large man loomed over her.

     Was it him? Her love? She could not make out his features except for his size through the gust of the snow. The man bore a large wooden staff and nothing else as he squared off with the alpha once more. As the Bosmer sat there with Mercy in one hand and the other over her stomach, she watched in pain as the man worked and could only hope that it was him. The only person whose face always came to mind when she thought of warmth. The leader of the pack began to circle them, staring the man down as the rest of the wolves just howled and gave whines of encouragement. Then the large grey alpha gave a low growl to the wolf next to him. The other canine knew what was asked of him and what it could mean for himself.

     The second wolf then leapt at the man only to be met with a loud thwack to the side of the face, but that was not the whole point. In a split second, the alpha seized his chance and went for the man's exposed throat. The man had anticipated this though and rounded on the wolf, catching him in his muscular arms and grunting. Snarls ripped through the alpha's snout while the woman picked up the wooden staff to ward off the others, but they just stared bug eyed as their leader slowly lost energy. The unmistakable look of fear came across the leader's face as he realized his life was about to come to an end. It may have been the most pitiful sight she had ever seen which was astounding considering all that had crossed her eyes. She almost begged him to stop, but the baby's birth was nigh and spasms began to go up her spine and down her legs.

     At last, the man gave one last squeeze and the grey wolf with moons for eyes went limp against him. The large man threw the dead wolf at the others and they ran off with only the equivalent that could be described as screaming. Next, the man's eyes came to rest on her as he made his way to her in just two short bounds. He took the wooden staff rather forcefully and her last hope of seeing her sweet was dashed. Terror began to set in. This man had no reason to take care of her and the pain slowly taking over her, but she could do absolutely nothing as he covered her with his form.

     But instead of snuffing out her life like that of the wolf on the ground, he lifted her up tight to his chest with the staff in hand and she could see him for the first time. He was completely bald, but his lower face was covered in a thick and full dark, brown beard. His eyes were a curious hazel, no doubt filled with questions. The face she looked upon was firm, but filled with worry and kindness.

     "Let's get ya inside, little one. You and the babe will need a warm bed and you food," he exclaimed as he carried her through the woods a way. "Try to stay calm and hold on."


	3. Prologue Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, Bishop, Karnwyr, or any other character created by Skyrim or SkyrimRomance. The SR mod is owned by Mara.  
> SkyrimRomance is a fantastic romance/follower mod in my opinion and everyone should check it out.
> 
> Skyrimromance.com

     The fetus was soon becoming impatient inside the Bosmer lady's womb, especially with the stress brought on by the pack of wolves. If she did not know any better, she would have sworn it was trying to rip through her and make its own path to this world. Better keep that notion tucked away, she thought. The babe's heritage was one bred for carnage at best. It wanted blood and all that she had to offer was hers. The child could have it, she told herself. Even if only for a few moments, being a mother was the only important task she had ever done. She gripped the man's ragged tunic, gasping for air in between the contractions that slowly started to come. More blood began making its way out of her and down her thighs as a log cabin and shed came into view.

     Thank the gods for she did not know how long she could keep going. She knew once the mother was dead, the child would soon follow. Amidst the throes of labor, she managed to beg him to save the baby at all costs because without it her life would not matter anyways. The man rushed through the door and laid her down on a straw filled cot. She had the urge to push, but in and out she faded from this world to that of sleep. Her eyes gradually began to roll to the back of her skull and bone fingers reached out through the darkness towards her. An inaudible hum surrounded her and she could feel herself reach out against her will. Numbness started to fill her mind and body, leaving no room for anything else.

     That was when she felt the sharp cut on her lower abdomen and a flood of fluid covering her lower half. Stars of all different colors clouded her vision as she came back to the present. The man was holding a small bundle wrapped in hide all the while moving his mouth, but no sound seemed to be coming from him. His eyes kept moving from her to the bundle and she could make out small movements inside the hide. He leaned in close and she saw it. A baby girl with a shock of ginger hair and teal eyes drowning in tears. Her ears were pointed just like hers, but smaller and they rested flat like the horizon. At last, the mother's ears were filled with sound again.

     The tiny baby let out a wild wail of frustration followed by soft whimpers. The mother held out her arms and took her little girl firmly despite being so weak from blood loss and days of exhaustion. Little fingers grasped at her chest. A small heart beat in unison with a larger one. The Bosmer now knew what unconditional love was and how it could feel her with happiness and warmth that seemed to blanket the whole world. But such a thing could surely never last. Sithis wanted his pound of flesh.

     Looking into those crystal pools of teal, the Bosmer's sight grew dim. Feeling seeped out of her body. The world grew silent until even the baby's soft cries were gone too. The taste of blood from biting her tongue and the smell of it that covered her...all stolen from her. The last moments of her life were the first of her daughter's, but they were serene and no one could take that from her.

 

‡ ‡ ‡

 

     Olin had abandoned civilization in search for answers that the races of men and mer could never seem to provide him. As an adolescent, he often wondered why one life was given and then taken back within a short span of time. As a young man, he thought maybe the answers to life hid in the passion shared between two persons. Finally, as a middle aged man, he sought the council of religious men. They admitted to not knowing either, but welcomed him to travel the path to truth with them. So it was for much time that this was enough for him, but even the life with the priests did not bring the knowledge that he yearned for.

     One dawn, when Olin was fifty-one, he set out completely on his own. He believed that if he wanted to know the true meaning of what everything was all about, he needed to shed all of the things that meant nothing. If he started anew with no possessions, then he would be able to tell the true value of something such as life and therefore know what it meant. People thought he had lost all of his competence, but he knew that this had to be done. He would figure this enigma that had always eluded him even if that would be all that he did in life.

     In the ruthless land of the Jerall Mountains, he found beauty all around him. How the snow covered every surface so that it could start over just like him. The way the mother deer looked after her newborn faun in the spring time only to be left a year or two later. The sky puzzled him the the most though, especially at night. How it could change colors like that, he would certainly never know. All he could do was enjoy it. And on one night, he was doing just that as he heard the hunting howls of the wolves. They had tracked down something tasty.

     As he always did with nature, he went to investigate. Olin had lived over ten years in the Jeralls, but never had he a chill run down his spine like this when he saw what the wolves had circled. A very pregnant woman with snow white hair laid half on her back, half on her side while brandishing a single dagger at her attackers. Olin praised himself in letting life take its course because the gods had to have laid everything out. But this...this could not be their will. So he intervened.

     By the time, they had made it to his modest home, the Bosmer had already lost a lot of blood and she was quickly losing her self. Luckily, the only magic Olin had ever known or bothered to learn was Restoration and he had come quite proficient in it from his time at the monastery. Through all the blood and other fluids he could make out the child was breech and the cord had wrapped around it like a snake. He had never seen so much red during a birthing and he was becoming all the more aware of the two lives in his hands. He could stop and focus on healing her, but that would ultimately forfeit the child. Saving the child would definitely cost the woman her life though. It was either save one or risk losing them both.

     Olin thought he could not take it anymore when the woman grasped his arm weakly. Her blue eyes were filled with tears and she cried to him to save the child because without it her life did not matter anymore. The decision had been made for him. The one thing he could do was cut her open, save the child, and pray to all of the gods in existence that they would make it. Olin hurriedly took a clean, small knife from a drawer and pierced then cut horizontally the woman's skin above the pubic bone, giving him access to her uterus. Another laceration and he was able to get at the babe. Carefully, he unwrapped the umbilical cord, cut it, and swaddled the baby in a clean animal hide. He then let her hold her little one as he worked on her lower half, trying his best to clean and mend her.

     When Olin got the bleeding to stop, he moved up to her to tell her the good news only to find her ice blue eyes void of all light, her arms still clutched protectively around the bundle. He cursed at the gods for the first time in over twenty years in that moment. His anger could hold him but for a few seconds as the babe's cries filled the room. He forced himself to let his animosity to the gods go and cuddled the baby close to keep her warm. What in Oblivion was he going to do? A newborn without her mother was unthinkable. And he lived in the middle of nowhere while the snow fell fast and hard. Blast, he cursed to himself. He had to wait until the sun could warm the land enough to even fathom braving the wilds with a small child.

     So Olin waited and the child grew. Her hair came in as untamable ringlets that perhaps had all the shades of oranges and reds there ever were with eyes that changed hues frequently. Olin could only say her eyes reminded him of the way water flows or how grass swayed. Her ears were funny to say the least. They were only slightly bigger than a human's, but the points grew out sideways and forward making her look like some woodland creature. Olin could feel himself becoming protective of her and concerned for her well being after he gave her up. Again, he could not do what nature had intended.

     One morning, Olin scooped her up and held her close in that grey wolf's hide giving her little kisses on the side of her face to make her squeal. He had always loved that sound. It made him feel like the world was right for once in his time on it. Almost like all the answers he ever wanted were laid out before him. She had given him the peace that he had restlessly searched for.

     "Alfsol," he whispered in her ear. "A creature as bright and beautiful as the sun."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, Bishop, Karnwyr, or any other character created by Skyrim or SkyrimRomance. The SR mod is owned by Mara.  
> SkyrimRomance is a fantastic romance/follower mod in my opinion and everyone should check it out.
> 
> Skyrimromance.com

    The ginger elf tried to make her body smaller against the roaring winds of the Jerall Mountains. She would never forgive herself if she succumbed to this world's trials. The little elf told herself that she had to make Olin proud. She may be of elf blood, but the strength and the resistance of a Nord ran through her veins as true as his Nordic blood had. Olin taught her that pride in oneself could be as protective as steel and cut deeper than a fine sword. The Jerall Mountains did not care whether a person was an elf, Nord, or a fluffy cat walking on two legs though. Nature, she laughed into her gray cloak. Unforgiving to all equally.  
  
    The elf knew she would be safe enough. Nature may be harsh, but it had its own reasons unbeknownst to her. Shards of ice lightly whipped her face, making her grow a deeper pink across her freckled cheeks and nose. Focusing, she concentrated her magicka to where it blanketed her form with warmth, but with extreme prudence not to have an accident. She reached into her upper left tunic pocket to make sure Zora was securely wrapped in goatskin. Still there, the elf girl thought, safe and sound. Soon enough Olin would see all that she had collected on her travels across Tamriel. She wanted to show to him that he had raised her well. To demonstrate that she could take care of herself so he need not worry anymore. And he would love Zora. Who wouldn't? A thing like Zora was rare and beau-  
  
    Just then the wind picked up fast enough to scathe all of the female elf's exposed face. The cold tore its way up and into her cloak's hood, snapping at the nape of her neck. Everything became a pure, blinding white. Light had poked through the clouds to shine on all of the snow crystals causing her eyes to painfully see all of the colors combining into nothing visible. She stopped herself as not to stumble and tumble down the snowy banks of the mountain. The wind raced around her, pushing her to fall onto her knees and eventually all fours to steady herself. As she stayed completely still, the commotion came to a complete halt. The snow fell lazily in the absence of the wind. The same wind that had tormented her for days and nights with unending force. Something was wrong.  
  
    The young female flattened her body completely against the snow. Her belly quivered against the unwanted touch of the cold against it making her insides shrink back and coil in on themselves. She could pay no heed to that feeling because another more intrusive feeling began to make itself known to her. The base of her spine sent unnatural shivers up her back giving her hair reason to stand on end. Soft crunching noises of snow made their way to her pointed ears. She instinctively fingered her twin ebony scimitars while making sure her bow was secure on her back. Slight movement caught the attention of her teal eyes, narrowing them in cautious curiosity. A figure covered in snow was less than two hundred feet away. Maybe one hundred fifty feet. Either measurement was too close for comfort.  
  
    With a quick movement, the elf tucked her hair up and away from her face. Better to have red tucked away than red on the snow. She thanked the Nine Divines that her furs were all whites and grays. It was odd for someone to be up in the Jeralls for no apparent reason. Only Olin and her were crazy enough. This person was not here before the flash of brutal weather. Perhaps that one had caused it, but what for? The girl was in deep contemplation of the mysterious figure when she heard a soft crunch come not fifty feet behind. Now that made her blood run cold.  
  
    He was on her before she could even flip onto her back. Rough hands pushed her face into the snow and her torso flat against the ground while a muscular thigh was jammed in between her own. She cried out in pain, clawing outwards trying to find some way to bring herself up, but the snow kept giving away beneath her bandaged hands due to their weight. The man shoved a hand under her cloak and tunic, running his freezing flesh across her bare skin. He had _that_  in his heart. After, giving her back another once over with his hand, the man moved onto her ears. Laughing, he started to pull on them.  
  
    "A little elf crossed my path! Ya' know, ya' look funny for an elf? Not all points and edges, but soft. Why you decide to travel alone in these mountains where big, bad wolves roam?"   
  
    "I don't see anything big nor bad out here let alone wolves. Just two mangy MUTTS," the girl snapped her disgust against the snow.  
  
    "Hey, well if she ain't got bite! Aye, you'll be fun for me and da' boy," he chortled.  
  
    Boy, she thought. Perhaps he will knock reason into this man. Surely this type of mental defect of men would not cross her twice in a day. Hastened footsteps seemed to answer her thoughts and hopes. Twisting against the snow, she struggled to look up to see a young twig of a man dressed in leather armor make his way towards them. This was the first figure she had saw, she realized.   
  
    "Ambros! What in Oblivion are you doing to that elf?!"  
  
    "Whatzit look like I'm doing, boy? Baggin' us some game. Time to make yourself a man!"  
  
    Her patience soon wore out so she screamed and bucked to get the man off of her. This only made him shove a cloth down her throat whilst pushing her further into the ground. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Game? Is this what she is? Meat to be had? Anger swelled within her and she reminded herself to stay calm. Yet the blood rushed to her head and her veins pulsed with heat. Her body began to become fevered all over and she bit her tongue to stop herself. She could not do that with Zora so close. The second man was also innocent no matter how weak he was in nature.  
  
    The man flipped the small elf onto her back while keeping her pinned down with his weight and pushed another hand up the front of her tunic. She finally got a good look at the man named Ambros. He looked normal with dark brown hair accompanied by like colored eyes. There was light stubble where a beard was trying to grow only to be cut back. He looked completely normal, not like a villain in the tales told to young girls of wicked men. If she met him in any other way, then she might have even thought he was handsome in his own right. As of now though, all he looked like was a mad animal.  
  
    The one that was barely older than a boy just stood there watching them. The elf looked up at him with desperation in her eyes. He cowered inward making his already awkward lanky body even more awkward. Eyes cast down and away, he backed away slowly. Ambros couldn't seem to care less about the boy anymore. He had his prize. Or so he thought. The man made a detrimental mistake turning her onto her back.  
      
    In the time that it had taken her to make her observations, she had formed a defense plan. Game she would not be. Not then, not now, not ever. The elf looked Ambros in his eyes so he would know his grave transgression. The heel of her right hand shot up and met his chin with a sharp crack. The man let out a cry of anguish only to be cut short when she punched him in his sternum. He let go of her completely, lifting back as he tried to get air into his lungs only to fail. She took this opportunity to quickly crawl out from underneath him and kick his stomach to give her more space as he fell back.  
  
    Standing up, the elven girl pulled the gag out. She glared at the boy who had stood their dumbfounded the whole time. He was as pale as a ghost with hair the color of straw. A wisp of a man if she had ever saw one. She turned her stance slightly towards him as the other had become more concerned with his new found pain. The boy looked at her in horror eyes darting between her own and her blades.  
  
    "Why didn't you help me?"  
  
    "I-I don't know! I'm sorry! Please, don't kill me," the boy sobbed as he sank to his knees. "I wanted no part of this! I'm just a farm boy..."  
  
    The young elf stared at the boy in disbelief. Why in the world would she kill him? Why is everything about killing? She could not fathom _why_ the events of this day had happened or _how_ she had let them happened. She should have been more careful and aware of her surroundings. Olin had taught her better.  
  
    "I have no reason to kill you. Only to pity you," she somberly stated and turned back to Ambros to see him stand up. "Leave me alone, man named Ambros. I wish to not harm you."  
  
    Ambros stood like a dark stain against the purity of the white snow. He stared at the elf with a deranged look in his eyes as he stayed stark still. What was going through his head at that moment would remain a mystery that even he could not entirely understand. He now discerned he was bested by little more of a halfling of an elf. A disgrace of two races. Yet she had called him the mutt. A scowl came across his face as he resolved to lunge at her with a dagger. He gives me no choice, the elf sadly told herself.  
  
    With her right hand, she grabbed her scimitar resting on her left hip and swung out with all her might. She had to be sure the swing was true...And it was. The curve of the blade sliced through the man's light leather armor easily and soon his abdominal cavity was gashed open. His once agreeable face contorted into a mixture of tears and coughed up blood. What should have been inside him started to come out and he fell over trying to put himself back together again. Ambros whimpered because he could not muster the energy to emit anything louder.  
  
    The elf stepped over him. From the smell it would seem she had nicked an intestine. Ambros looked up at her with an expression that was only pain and sorrow, not anger or lust. She thought of his parents or anyone that might have held him dear at some point in time and because of that she would not just leave him in his current state. Disembowelment could leave a person laying in gruesome pain for hours before that person would finally die. She had seen the work before in her travels, but not one healer had succeeded in saving the victim. The elf had even done the deed to someone herself once. Nasty bit of life on how one could go.  
  
    Drawing her own dagger from her belt and putting away the other blade, she squatted down behind the man's head so his eyes stared into hers as tears rolled down both of their faces. The elf drove the blade in deep with only the hilt visible, slightly behind his ear with the edge facing up, and then pulled out. Blood spurted once, lightly touching her cheek. Her hands were covered in it though. There was no triumph in this, she thought. No glory or honor to be had in suffering whether it be oneself or the opponent. Olin had shown her this too.   
  
    Silence lay heavily among the two of them that were left, several feet separating them. Shades of red surrounded the elf in the once white mountainside. Cowardice, lust, murder. Misdoings like these committed by the three of them only led to more misfortune. The elf slowly stood up and looked at the boy directly. She wanted him to look at her. To see what had been done, to learn from it as she had. He felt her burning glare and at last, glanced up at her. Did he understand now that inaction could also spawn such evil? No answer was given as the sound of soft footfalls came from a distance.  
  
    A small group of leather clad men made their way up to where the two were. A relieved look came across the face of the one that seemed to be the leader. He called out to the skinny boy, waving him over. The boy stayed on his knees, gazing silently at the group of men. Only then did they notice the fur covered elf standing over their fallen comrade. _Run._ The elf made to sprint through a forest of snow laden trees that was barely in range.  
  
    "Men," yelled one of the group who was presumably the leader. "Bind and gag her!"  
  
    The girl could hear the men give chase and arrows whizzed past her body. The tree line came closer as her legs pounded against the snow. Her hand touched the black bark of a tree just as an arrow cut its way into her left hamstring making her stumble. Pain seared up and down her leg as she grabbed onto the tree to steady herself. The men pounced on her when she tried to continue to run into the forest. She was hit on the head leaving her inert, but not before she stole a dazed look at the boy. The group then dragged her off to their camp.  


 

‡ ‡ ‡

  
    When she awoke, her ears ringed with different sounds. Her sight was blurred twisting shapes into things they should not be. It was freezing in what she could only make out to be a carriage because a roughspun tunic replaced her handmade fur clothing. That would mean...No. She rather not think about it, but carefully paid attention to how she felt just to be sure. Everything except her dignity seemed to be as it should be. The carriage had three other men in it. One sat in front of her, another sat on the first one's left side, and the third sat on her right side. The man beside her was dressed in fine clothing and gagged.  
  
    "Hey, you. You're finally awake," said the man directly in front of her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, Bishop, Karnwyr, or any other character created by Skyrim or SkyrimRomance. The SR mod is owned by Mara.  
> SkyrimRomance is a fantastic romance/follower mod in my opinion and everyone should check it out.
> 
> Skyrimromance.com

   The elf stared at the three men sitting with her in the carriage. The blonde Nord was a Stormcloak who followed the man sitting next to her, Ulfric Stormcloak. The man who dueled High King Torygg and "shouted him to pieces." Word had traveled fast across Tamriel of this supposed treachery and had even reached her elven ears as she wondered the streets of Cyrodiil. _He_ and his bloody civil war were the sole two reasons she had avoided the main roads. She wanted nothing to do with this war between men and their thrones. They could all rot in the riches that they had spoiled themselves with by living off of the backs of the common folk. As for the other man, he was just a horse thief. A loud one at that.  
  
    A rough jolt of the wagon shook the elf out of her thoughts as they approached a village encircled in stone. A man called General Tullius was in charge and he was accompanied by the Thalmor. The elf did not need to hear rumors to know the cruelty of their lot. Frowning, she studied everything and everyone only to let out a soft sigh under her breath. There is absolutely no way to escape, she thought sadly. Normally, there was always a way to escape, but these men and women seemed to have their security perfected. There were simply too many soldiers for her to use magic on and they had taken her equipment. Her story of Ambros would without a doubt fall on deaf ears.  
  
     The Nord kept talking, revealing that this village was named Helgen and it would seem he had grown up here or at least had spent a great amount of time here. Enough to develop relations of some sort with a girl. He then said that the Imperial walls and towers made him feel safe as a boy. Foolish man, the elf retorted in her mind. _Only your own abilities should make you feel safe...and none of us succeeded in securing that safety.  
  
    _This made the elf angry. After all of what had happened to her, would she be cut down like a common criminal? She hated these idiotic soldiers and complacent townspeople, but above all she despised herself the most. She should have put off visiting Olin until all of this blew over and the roads were at least void of these soldiers who told themselves they were doing what was right. The elf felt the beginning of tears forming beneath her eyelids making her eyes feel heavy. Yet again she had failed Olin. _No...  
  
    _The elf would not give in, not until the last breath was taken from her lungs. Nothing was over until she stopped fighting and she would not stop until she was cold in the earth or burned to ash. The elf lowered her head in an attempt to hide her eyes darting all around her as she reassessed the situation. The carriage had stopped in the middle of the village and the prisoners were unloading. Guards surrounded their captives from all around. They even positioned a few archers at select points of elevation. _A good amount of Imperial soldiers for a rather small amount of prisoners in a medium fortified keep?_ It was obvious what the soldiers intended for the prisoners before the blonde Nord popped the bubble of denial the horse thief had created for himself.  
  
    The elf hopped off of the cart with the others and watched the two named Ralof and Lokir accept their fates in very different ways. Ralof simply took his with pride while Lokir made a break for it only to be shot down by the archers. She had to commend both of them in her mind, one for dignity and the other for effort. There was still no break in formation or any slight distraction the elf could perceive to use to her advantage. The female officer faced the rest of the prisoners and asked if there were any other runners while the male soldier in front called for the elf. He looked her up and down with a puzzled look, glancing down at the book in his hand. _Problem in your plans? No shit, mine too,_ the elf thought and huffed softly as she stepped forward.  
  
    "Who are you? What kind of elf are you? You look different from other elves..."  
  
    The elf's ginger locks had encased her forehead in sweat, making them curl and frizz where they did not stick down. Her teal eyes itched from having dirt thrown up in them and her bound hands could offer no help. She was half exposed in these rags she adorned with a bleeding wound in her back thigh. This man wanted to know who she was and for what? To put a name to the decapitated body that they would soon forget? He would never grasp who she was and who she is now so she chose to give him the shortest answer she could provide.  
  
    "My name is Alfsol."  
  
    "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list," the officer stated.  
  
    "Forget the list! She goes to the block," the captain exclaimed.  
  
    "By your orders, captian." The man then turned to Alfsol, "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are taken care of. Follow the captain, prisoner."  
  
    Such empty words that man had uttered. If only the other woman's words were also without meaning. Alfsol made her way to stand with the other prisoners, furrowing her brow. _Think, you idiot._ This was not how she wanted to die. It was unworthy, even for her. A plan was beginning to form in her mind. She did not have to kill all of the guards and people there, maybe none at all. If the archers had any reputable skill, then they would pose the biggest threat. Soldiers in heavy armor she could outrun any day and there appeared to be no mages except maybe that priestess of Arkay. Then again that was a priestess of _Arkay_ so the priestess may not be that formidable, but Alfsol could not decide _._ All she had to do was cast a flashy spell that would blind or at least scare the archers while outmaneuvering the rest. No death would be on her conscience.  
  
    "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne."  
  
    _The Voice._  That tidbit sounded familiar to Alfsol's ears, but she could not recall where she heard it from. Obvisouly it was why Ulfric Stormcloak was gagged, but what mortal could wield his voice as a weapon? The information swirled around in Alfsol's mind, but she could not make sense of any of it. There had to be a reason for why this man could do what he did, never mind why he did it. Wisps of Olin's bedtime stories tangled in with the memories of the fear of what laid in the darkness outside their home. Alfsol swore under her breath for being distracted from the much more pressing matter at hand.  
  
    "...plunged Skyrim into chaos," General Tulius continued on with anger. "And now the Empire is going to put you down..."  
  
    That is when Alfsol completely stopped listening. Not because of her trying to wrap her mind around a man shouting another man to pieces. Not because of how desolate her near future looked. It was because she could feel the presence of something in the distance. She focused on a stone by her feet, trying to identify this feeling. It felt as if her whole body was waking up with pins and needles dancing all across her skin while her insides were expanding and stretching, but in the most brilliant way possible. And that was when she heard it.  
  
    The roar of sheer power ringing above the mountain tops just to settle upon her pointy ears. Alfsol lifted up her head so her eyes could scan the sky for the source of the sound. She was certain what she was feeling right now and that sound from the heavens were directly linked. There were no coincidences in this world, not for her anyways.   
  
    "What was that?" The soldier with the list of names now stood by the chopping block and looked to the sky with worry.  
  
    "It's nothing. Carry on," General Tulius reassured him.  
  
    "Yes, General Tulius," said the wench in soldier's armor now turning to the priestess. "Give them their last rites."  
  
    The priestess began to give the prisoners their prayers, but with little to no emotion as she went through the movements. One prisoner was having none of it since the priestess pointedly said "Eight Divines" and walked straight to the block while aptly reminding them of his belief in Talos. He told them to hasten their actions and the priestess concurred with him rather curtly. The man was forced to his knees with his neck on stone, telling them off one last time before the executioner's ax came down. The ax must have been sharp and well taken care of since the cut was clean, straight through the spinal chord and bone. Blood spurted out with the last beatings of the man's heart as his head rolled into the crate beneath him. Outrage and sentiments came from all sides of the crowd. Alfsol could not have imagined their reaction if the ax was not readied for the job. _Small miracles._  
  
    "Next, the odd looking elf!"  
  
    Before Alfsol could register the slight insult, another shriek from the skies was given. This time it echoed from all around them, telling Alfsol that this creature was close. And extremely large. The imperial by the chopping block once again raised his concerns, but the female imperial hushed him and called Alfsol to her death. The male soldier spoke softly to her to come forward as if the elf was a wild animal struck with madness. She wondered how many prisoners had tried to attack him in their last moments in this world, placing the blame all on him just because he was there. Alfsol silenced her inner thoughts of his possible hardships to try and calm herself as she was shoved to her knees. Her neck was placed hard against the stone while her head laid lazily over the edge giving the executioner a clear path to strike.   
  
    The blood from the previous prisoner had already begun to cool and it stuck to Alfsol's skin. Hopeless and lost with the feeling of the man's blood on her neck, she let herself slip into the memory of her first kill in the Jerall Mountains when she was over six summers old.  
  


‡ ‡ ‡

  
    Alfsol was so proud of herself when she finished the small deadfall trap and miniature bark fence around it that she stood for a few minutes over it to admire her hard work. She had observed Olin so many times setting up the traps in the months before winter so she wold not have to feel hunger. Alfsol wanted to show him that she was capable of helping out and that he would be able to count on her even if only for small game.   
  
    Alfsol was gathering blue mountain flowers on one side of her and Olin's shack while the deadfall was on the opposite. A soft, but still audible thump came from the direction of the trap and she sprang to her feet to see her prize. The trap had done its job; it had caught a small rabbit. The small rabbit was still alive though. It writhed and screamed uncontrollably underneath the flat rock from the trap. The young elf panicked and froze a few feet from where the bunny laid. A shadow fell over her and the tiny creature went quiet as Alfsol felt the soothing effects of a calm spell.   
  
    From behind, Olin took Alfsol's hand and led her to where the bunny now rested silently, shallowly breathing. Kneeling down, he slowly lifted the rock off of it and took the bunny into his arms. Cradling it with one arm, he lifted his free hand to the creature's neck and snapped it. The sharp crack broke Alfsol out of the calm spell and she cried out in grief. Olin gently petted her hair as he looked at her.  
  
    "The death of this animal is not what you wanted?"  
  
    Sobs wracked Alfsol's little body as she tried to explain that this is not what she wanted. The words would not come out, only sporadic gasps for air in between tears. All she wanted to do was help and now her whole plan had become something contorted. Now Olin would think she was a bad child and this thought only made her cry harder.  
  
    "Alfsol, I know this is not what you wanted. Let this be a lesson that every action or inaction has consequences. There is a reason why I have not yet shown you the game I have caught in my traps or the ones taken down with my bow. You were not ready, but we can not change the past. You should only kill when there is a need. I could not save this one because his body was already shutting down. The only way to honor him is by seeing he did not die in vain and to put his remains at rest."  
  
    Olin stood up and gave Alfsol another reassuring pat on the head as he walked towards where he skinned the animals. She made her way to follow him because she thought her witness would be part of the consequence, but he stayed her. Olin looked down at her and she finally looked up at him in the eyes for the first time since he found her with the rabbit. The sun was right behind his head and she had to hold her hands over her tear stained eyes just to barely see him. She could see him smile for whatever reason she could not fathom.  
  
    "You've already learned enough for one day. Pick up those flowers you gathered and bring them inside. I will be there shortly."  
  
    "Yes, Olin," Alfsol replied obediently, still sniffling. She trotted off with her head lowered to the ground.  
  
    "Oh, and Alfsol," Olin called.  
  
    "Yes, Olin?" She was careful not to look at him too directly.  
  
    "I still love you so pick up your head." And with that, he left to prepare the rabbit.

 

‡ ‡ ‡

    Alfsol's memory of Olin's figure faded into that of the executioner towering over her. She stared up at her killer much like the rabbit had done to her that day so many years ago. Is this what the rabbit had felt as it laid helpless below its predator? Where was her Olin to make the pain go away? Alfsol's questions were cut off just as another roar rang down from the skies and a massive winged creature swooped down upon the village, landing on the stone building in front of her in a cloud of dust. The beast stared down at Alfsol with pale red eyes encased in black scales that jutted out large horns all over its body.

    Screams broke out from the crowd as the great monster peered over them from its perch. The sound of weapons being unsheathed were muted as the the odd feeling that had before filled her with such magnificent sensation now began to sing deafeningly. The pale red orbs of its eyes gazed directly down at her as it opened up its maw to reveal a set of razor like teeth. _This surely is it_ , Alfsol told herself. The creature let out a bellow that tore apart the very fabric of this world as the clouds swirled into what seemed a vortex within the sky. The elf's mind became unfocused and vision blurred as the raw power rained down upon them shook her to her very core.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, Bishop, Karnwyr, or any other character created by Skyrim or SkyrimRomance. The SR mod is owned by Mara.  
> SkyrimRomance is a fantastic romance/follower mod in my opinion and everyone should check it out.
> 
> Skyrimromance.com

    Riverwood laid peacefully in the night along the White River. All of the residents were either asleep in their cozy little beds or having a drink at the Sleeping Giant Inn. It had been a productive day for everyone and even more tranquil aside from crazy old Hilde shouting about dragons. Every local and passerby was in a jolly good mood except for one ranger named Bishop. The ranger leaned against the wood railing of the inn, burning holes into the dirt with his glare. _Those damn bandits_ , Bishop cursed to himself. What he was going to do to them when he got his hands on them even he could not think of _yet_. The ranger let go of the railing in frustration and slouched his back against the threshold of the inn, crossing his arms with a scowl on his face.  _I swear if they harm Karnwyr in any way I'm going to murder them,_ Bishop thought bitterly as he looked west watching the flow of the river. _Ah, who am I kidding? I'm going to kill them anyways.  
  
    _Laughter from the two drunks in front of the inn reached Bishop making him growl. Thomas and Darian were their names and they had been loitering about this town for almost as long as him. He was tired of their constant cat calling at the women of this town. _They even teased Hilde,_ Bishop shuddered. _Hilde!_  Bishop tried even harder to keep his attention on the river so he could try to erase that mental image from his mind. A disturbance in the shadows off of the main road towards his right caught his keen eye. Someone was entering the town not by the road. That could only mean that the person did not want to be seen or was drunk.  
  
    The outline of the person came into view and Bishop could make out that the person was hunched over with his or her clothing all rumpled while hiding mostly underneath some old ratty cloak. _Great! Another drunk. Must be a friend of these two._ Bishop sighed heavily and went back into the tavern. He went to the bar, ordered a mead, and sauntered off to his rented room. Lying in bed, he thought of how he was going to rescue Karnwyr from that den of thieves with nothing but himself, his bow, and his knife. That was when he heard the inn's door slam open.  
  
    Bishop made his way out of his room with haste to see what in Oblivion the slam of the door was for. He had not prepared himself for what his eyes soon beheld. In the doorway of the Sleeping Giant Inn, stood a short person cladded in fur and blood from head to toe, holding a bushel of blue mountain flowers while staring at the ground. The person's cloak was made from some freakish animal Bishop had never seen before. He would have guessed a wolf, but the head of the dead beast sported two sharp horns. Everything about this person screamed "danger" except for the following words:  
  
    "I would like to buy some wheat and to use your alchemy lab. Please."  
  


‡ ‡ ‡

    Alfsol did not like for a person to stare at her for too long. A whole inn full of people gaping at her made her want to disappear from existence. There was even the clatter of an empty mug hitting the floor. She shrugged within her clothing so she could feel the reassuring weight of Zora nestled against her breast. Swallowing hard, she pushed back the hood of her cloak away from her head. She knew everyone could see the blood on her, but only she had the knowledge that mingled within the blood were ashes of the burnt corpses provided by the citizens of Helgen. 

    "We don't want any trouble with the Forsworn," said the barkeeper.

    "I am not Forsworn," Alfsol stated. She slowly took out some gold coins she had lifted off of the Stormcloaks that she had...slaughtered. In a gesture of good faith, she walked up to the bar steadily and slid the coins to the barkeeper. "If you just sell me some of your wheat and let me use your alchemy lab, I can be on my way quickly."

    The man behind the bar gave Alfsol some wheat and pointed to the table with the mortar and pestle. She strode over to the table and set out to grind the blue mountain flowers with the wheat, not enough to make it into a potion but instead a poultice to apply directly to her wounds. Alfsol counted five others in the inn. One was a drunk, another a simple bard, the bartender, the owner, and one man sticking to the shadows. Only the owner and obscure man would pose a problem if they decided to attack. Both of them were hiding their cards while the others' body languages told that they were everything she had already pegged them to be. The owner was adorned in a simple commoner dress, but Alfsol knew how one could arm the body well and still look feeble in one of those outfits. The man however was a bit more obvious in his choice of light armor leather attire. _Ranger. Possible thief,_ Alfsol noted to herself. _Watch carefully._

Alfsol crowded in on herself over the mortar and pestle, trying to shield her face from prying eyes. Her own eyes had already adjusted to the soft candlelight of the inn. She had visually observed a modest inn that did fairly well it seemed with two inhabitants that appeared to be regulars. Her ears were able to discern even more though. The young bard muttered to himself about his love life or lack thereof, the drunk was so self absorbed in his next ploy to provide him more ale, and the bartender and owner carried on about with their business of tending to the inn. The only one who was silent was the man standing a ways behind Alfsol whose eyes had not left her form.

    "Why are you covered in blood?"

    The abrupt question caught Alfsol off guard, but she immediately fixed her expression into one of stone as she looked her inquirer in the face. It was the inn owner and she was standing right beside Alfsol, looking at the poultice of wheat and blue flower. _This woman is bold yet experienced._ Alfsol decided to avoid the whole story about the dragon attacking Helgen lest someone tried to apprehend her. She needed something practical with an undertone of a threat to get this woman off her back. The elf drew herself up to her full height, which was not much, and paused her medicine prepping. Now was not the time to show how tired she was. Alfsol would rest when there were no eyes trying to pick her apart.

    "That mine down the road," Alfsol started, "is now home to a gang of bandits. Two of them spotted me traveling and decided to jump me. I suffered some minor cuts however I assure you this is not my blood."

    The woman was not biting and asked "two bandits bled that much?"

    "My scimitars are meant to cut more so than stab although they can still stab effectively enough," Alfsol gave a half smile as she began to improvise. "The bandits came at me from my sides except they did not expect me to swing outwards in their direction while they were there. They suffered long diagonal gashes across their necks and torsos instead of concentrated injuries so yes, a lot of blood was spilt. It did not help that they both stumbled forward and onto me as they died. Now please excuse me, I need to attend to my own...gashes."

    Wrapping up her poultice and nodding to the owner, the Bosmer elf strolled out of the inn past the other drunks. Alfsol did not have time for this and trying to explain that a huge dragon leveled Helgen would only make her sound delusional. Being covered in blood _and delusional_  were grounds for getting thrown in jail or maybe even killed in this land. She would leave it to that imperial named Hadvar whenever he got his ass here to explain the current situation. She continued to walk right out of the town someways along the river to the west until she knew that no one was around and settled down on the slope of the riverbank away from the road.

    Alfsol stripped down to nothing and hopped into the river, leaving her belongings on the dirt. Zora popped her head out of the dirty furs and her light pink eyes peered out at Alfsol. _Dirt. Blood. Water._  Alfsol scooped up Zora bringing her close. The elf kneeled down into the water so that her friend good also get wet. Zora moved around in Alfsol's hands as she begun to bath herself. _Water. Done. Back._ Alfsol obeyed her friend's wishes and put Zora back onto the riverbank.

    "You know, most of your kin do not bath like you do. I am pretty sure most of them prefer to stay covered in dirt," Alfsol teased.

    _Me. Clean. Smart._ Alfsol rolled her eyes at her friend and started to fight with her hair. The long tangled braids with engraved beads resisted her hands as she tried to straighten them. Dried blood flaked off of her ginger hair, falling into the water and dissipated in the face of the person who gazed back. Only it was not Alfsol's reflection she was looking into. Her stomach lurched into her throat while her feet were plastered in the mud where she stood.

    It was a bald young girl, barely in her teenage years. Her body was completely emaciated with lesions across her pale skin. Two pale blue eyes laid sunken in her sockets with skin stretched thin over her skull. The girl's eyes slowly widened as fire came to life behind her and mangled bodies danced in pain all around her. The young girl's cracked lips opened to let out a scream that she knew no one but her could hear as everyone died around her.

    Shutting her eyes hard enough to see stars, Alfsol plunged herself underneath the water to escape the girl's pain. There was only a brief second of relief until images of Helgen flooded her mind. It happened all over again. People burning alive, not given the sweet mercy of suffocation from smoke. Howls of those not instantly killed filled Alfsol's ears. Opening her eyes under the water, she saw the ghosts of those she could not save. There were so many children suffering around her.

    It was too much for Alfsol and she opened her own mouth to cry out only for water to rush in and strangle her. The riverbed gave way so the elf's feet felt the cold finger bones of the dead trying to bring her down with them. The hands pulled her further down as her own hair wrapped around, choking the life from her even further. Her hands raked through the water, searching for anything or anyone to help. 

    But there was nothing. Any help that had ever came had always been too late. Colors flashed before Alfsol's eyes as the hands gave her one last tug and let her go. The smooth tips of the bones lightly grazed her toes as she began to float to the surface, barely conscious. Alfsol felt herself hit the riverbank where she had laid her belongings. Zora scurried next to the young elf's face and frantically started to groom her. _Alf. Sol. Good?_

Alfsol opened her mouth to answer, but a movement within made her shut it fast and crawl away. Nausea brought on by the previous imagery and swallowing too much water left her already empty stomach in distress with dry heaves. She kept herself doubled over the edge of the water, trying not to focus on whatever may be reflected. Without realizing it, she was reaching for the skin on her back where she felt most thin. _If the monster comes out, it will surely be through here. It'll take only my spine with it and I will be like a used disguise discarded._

The elf let her fingers trace the part of her spine that she could. She could feel them, the small spikes that were once her normal spinous process. _They will come through the thick and thin ripples of your skin._   _And then-_

    Alfsol shook her head from side to side. She would not let her fears get in the way of visiting Olin and her ultimate goal. Positioning herself up to a straight back kneel, she grabbed her clothing and what little soap she had for the road. Squatting down to the water she hastily began to scrub her filthy attire, cloak first. Alfsol turned slightly to Zora.

    "I hope you know what you've signed up for, my little friend. A lot of crap needs to be done and put in order... And I have the feeling it's only going to get worse."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, Bishop, Karnwyr, or any other character created by Skyrim or SkyrimRomance. The SR mod is owned by Mara.  
> SkyrimRomance is a fantastic romance/follower mod in my opinion and everyone should check it out.
> 
> Skyrimromance.com

    The time was well into the late summer night and the two moons shone bright as the auroras ran across the sky. The stars were endless and each one flickered as if they were dancing. Bishop thought of this and tried to convince himself that some thinking out of town would do him good. It was too nice of a night to spend it in an old ratty inn anyways, but he knew better. Curiosity of the stranger had caught a hold of him and held fast.  _Bandits my ass,_ he thought as he walked out of town.  _That girl is hiding something._  He would sate his  _slight_ interest by investigating, but he would by no means get involved.  
  
    Bishop had not seen the girl by the bridge to the northeast so he decided to search the southwest road leading to the Guardian Stones. Just a little ways outside of the gate, he saw the soft glow of a small fire by the bend of the river.  _Smart girl. An easy place to move around and yet plenty of places to flank an enemy._ The girl did not seem like she was about to start any fights though. A spit made of sticks was positioned over a small fire while the girl's leathers were neatly folded to the side on top of a bag by a bow, quiver, and two sabers. The girl herself wore only beige breeches and a white tunic with a fur tied to her waist while her mass of red hair was bundled up into a tangled ball towards the back.  
  
    Staying in the shadows on the opposite side of river, Bishop leaned up against a tree and continued to watch the girl. She had positioned herself on a rock that jutted out and crouched low like a cat, staring into the water. Slowly, she brought up her right hand over the river. Bishop narrowed his eye in thought at this curious movement.  _What is she doing? There is no way she can-_ Before he was able to finish his thought, the girl's hand darted into the water and came back out with a fish writhing in it. Bishop stared in astonishment, half expecting the girl to put the fish in her mouth and to prance off on all fours like an actual cat would.  
  
    The girl instead took a dagger from under her fur and drove it through the fish's head. She then stood up quickly and jumped away from the rock and riverbank to put the fish down by the fire just to return by her spot. Kneeling down, the girl crawled past her previous position to go a bit further downstream and likened her pose to the one before. Yet again, the girl struck pay dirt and another fish had its brain spiked. This time the girl examined the fish closely flipping it around in her hands and looked up across the river.  
  
    The moonlight caught her eyes making them gleam like two gemstones as they peered keenly into Bishop's own eyes.  _She can't see me let alone know that I'm here._ He continued to lean against the tree as the girl stood up straight not taking her eyes off of where he stood. Her hand holding the fish tight around its lower body rose above her head and back while her own body turned slightly sideways. It seemed as she might smash the dead fish into the ground with as much force as possible. The girl then threw the fish with all her might towards where Bishop stood.  
  
    Bishop let out a short, angered yell as the dead animal smacked against the trunk where he had just rested his head. She could have hit him with that bloodied thing!  _That cur!_  Bishop made to shout across the river at her, but she had already cupped her hands around her mouth and begun yelling at him.  
  
    "Scram! Scat! I gave you some dinner so now go back to where you came from!"  
  
    The girl then followed her shouts with short hisses and waving of the hands. Had she mistaken him for a wild animal or something?  _Was she blind?_ Bishop recanted that thought when she started to throw rocks at his feet. It was when one hit him hard on the foot that he decided that observing her was too much of a hassle.   
  
    "Get! Get!"   
  
    "Fine with me," Bishop growled as he slunk further into the darkness and made his way back to town.  
  


‡ ‡ ‡

    Alfsol watched the man's dark form leave and listened intently until his footfalls were far off and eventually no longer audible to her. She was in absolutely no mood to be bothered by more strangers with even more questions. She took comfort in knowing she gave him an excellent salmon and that a sane person would accept it as a token to leave her alone yet he had left it there.  _How rude,_ she thought but there was no time to think about it because as of now she had to gut and clean her own dinner  _along_  with his so she could get on with resting. With lithe form, Alfsol hopped across the river stones, retrieved the abandoned fish, and returned to her fire.

    "Can you believe that man left this terrific fish, Zora?" Hands bloodied with fish innards, Alfsol was slightly perturbed at the prospect of the fish going to waste. Her own fish could possibly last for a few days and she did not have enough preserve supplies for another. Zora could not possibly eat the whole thing either.  _May you continue to live in endless rivers,_ she prayed and threw all the remains save the hearts and brains into the river. Zora scurried over and started to beg.  _Brains. Hearts. More._

"Have patience, small friend," Alfsol chided. Satisfied that the hearts and brains seemed healthy, she gave them one by one to Zora. "Do not gobble and choke like last time even if it is your nature of a greedy beast. My hold almost slipped the last time I had to shake the food out of you."

    Leaving her companion to her meal, Alfsol turned to the river to wash her hands thoroughly. Her mind wandered to the man cloaked in shadows. He did not seem like the common folk of Skyrim clothed in second hand and mended clothing.  _Well kept servant hunter for the nobles?_ And yet there were no nobles here in Riverwood from what she could tell. He was obviously here for something and away from home. To pull someone away from home in this cold place meant that that "something" was very important. Like an orb spider and her artistry, Alfsol began to weave a plan and started to wrap up the man's fish with care.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, Bishop, Karnwyr, or any other character created by Skyrim or SkyrimRomance. The SR mod is owned by Mara.  
> SkyrimRomance is a fantastic romance/follower mod in my opinion and everyone should check it out.
> 
> Skyrimromance.com

     _A small pinprick of light was sparkling in an expanse of black. There was nothing except the twinkle fighting against the all consuming void. The light continued to shift until the darkness had devoured it too. There was no sadness or fear because there was simply nothing now. No life to mourn or to be mourned.  
  
    This single event transpired in a second that elapsed from the beginning to the moment where a beam of light tore through the void and brought reality back. Countless stars poured out of the tear dragging clouds of blinding iridescence with them. Conscience was finally gifted to all who witnessed this magnificent marvel. The agony of awareness wormed its way through one being just as the colors of life met it.  
  
    The clouds of ever shifting fiery and lightning wrapped themselves around the witness giving it form. Cyan fire gave way to orange and red flames as it acknowledged its appearance. Within the turmoil of its own form was its own constellation of stars moving inside itself. The space within was infinite and yet it was able to be restrained and surrounded by the flames. Questions filled the mind of the being. _What was it? Why had it been ripped into existence from nothing?  
  
     _Answers never came, only silence and loneliness greeted the newborn and-_

  


    Head jerking up and hands clawing at face, the disassociation with her physical body made Alfsol's head spin. The wood elf snapped her eyes open just to see the dawn sky twirling like a colorful pinwheel. The dream world clung to her mind like fog and she could not make sense of anything except for the comforting feel of the dagger in her hand. Panic crawled up her spine as she fought to remember things. Rolling over onto her stomach, she took in her surroundings of a river and an old road winding through a forest. Memories began to trickle through to replace the panic only with anger.

    "Alfsol. Olin. Coreron," she said through ground teeth. A squeak came from beneath Alfsol's head. "And Zora of course."

    Standing up and brushing off her clothes, Alfsol untangled her hair and started to comb it with her fingers to then braid it up and away from her face with her beads and ties. She then checked her three ear piercings, one on her right and two on her left.  _Mother. Ana. Nao._ Then the barbell on her left ear.  _Shadowgreen Cavern._ Finally, Alfsol lightly ran her finger down her nose ring.  _Olin._  Now that she was sure everything would be right, she fastened her red bandanna around her head.  _You. Look. Pirate._

"But I'm not so people will have to get over it," Alfsol sighed as she straightened her bandaged arms and hands. She then fasten her treated bone plate guard around her left arm, swinging it to make sure it all fit right.  _Worry. People. Violence._ Alfsol picked up Zora and lightly kissed her between her light pink eyes. "I promise to keep us safe, but you can beat feet if you wish." The two friends stared into each others' eyes for a few moments.

     _No._

"That's why you're my best friend, Zor Zor," the elf replied as she tucked her tiny companion into her breast pocket.

    After adjusting her cloak to fit her silhouette perfectly, positioning her covered unstrung bow that was attached to her bag on her back, securing her scimitars to her hips with her quiver in the front all held in place by her leather holster, Alfsol felt like she was going to war.  _Life is war,_ she thought bitterly as she made her way to Riverwood at a brisk pace ready for anything this land could throw at her.  Never again will she be caught off guard.

    "And Hadvar's arse better be there," she growled.

‡ ‡ ‡

    The short walk to Riverwood was uneventful. The river rolled at its normal pace and through the wood mill of the small town. Everything about this place said "settle down here and waste away into old age."

    "Blessed these small miracles of ye old towns that be," Alfsol muttered jokingly. 

    The blacksmith's house and shop was easy enough to spot since it was right there as she walked through the town archway. The town had a minute population with little pull that she could feel. Everything felt as it should be in a small town. A man worked away at the hot coals to forge iron and steel into means of war. Slowly, Alfsol approached the man careful not to make him jump with his work, keeping her distance from the forge and heated tools. What was his name? Hadvar had not given it to her oddly enough.

    "Um," she began just as a figure came running down the town's road and up to the forge.  _Hadvar! Thank the gods. He can talk._ Alfsol stepped away from the blacksmith to let Hadvar get closer to him. She pulled off her hood to look both men in the face unhindered, but also to be seen.

    "Glad to see you made it, friend," Hadvar nodded to her. She only cocked one eyebrow and nodded at him in response.  _I guess surviving an attack like the one at Helgen would make two people sort of friends._ "Uncle Alvor! Hello!"

    "Hadvar? What are you doing here? Are you on leave from...," the man named Alvor trailed off mid sentence. "Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

    "Shh, uncle. Let us first go inside," Hadvar calmly said and then dropped his voice. "Too many eyes and ears."

    Alvor took a long look at Alfsol and she stared him straight in the eyes, never looking away until he finally did to lead her and Hadvar inside his house. The inside of the house was a rather nice cabin and even included a slanted stairway to a cellar. A great buck's head was mounted over the fireplace and glared down at Alfsol with its unseeing eyes. It occurred to her that this man may be the richest person in Riverwood since he was the blacksmith. She leaned herself on the left side of the doorway away from the table as Alvor sat down. He gestured to one of the seats at the table, but she shook her head politely and in turn gestured for Hadvar to sit.

    "Sigrid! We have company," Alvor called.

    A woman and young girl rushed up the stairs on the other side of the room. The woman at first saw Hadvar sitting at the table with his uncle and smiled saying, "we've been so worried about you! Come, you must be hung-" The woman's eyes had finally found Alfsol standing by the door. "Who is this, Alvor?"

    "What I was about to ask Hadvar."

    "She is a friend. She helped me escape Helgen after the attack," he started. "I- I was assigned to General Tullius's guard. We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked...by a dragon."

    "A dragon? That's...ridiculous..."

    Alvor's words faded in Alfsol's mind as she tuned everyone out. She had been there. She did not have to relive it again like she was sure she would later that night. The little girl that she now assumed was Alvor and Sigrid's daughter sat on the smaller of the two beds by the door, staring at her. Alfsol stared right back at her and saw the curiosity mixed with fear in the little girl's eyes as she listened to her father talk with her cousin. Alfsol then crossed her eyes, stuck her tongue out at the little girl, and twitched both her pointed ears back and forth. The girl's face then scrunched up as she tried to hide her snickers behind her hand. Sigrid scowled at her daughter and led her back downstairs.

    "Alfsol? Did you hear what my uncle said?" Alfsol took her eyes away from the stairs where the girl and mother went to focus back on Hadvar. "He said you could take what supplies you needed. You have to be the one to go to Whiterun to warn Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon. I need some time to myself here to prepare before I go to Solitude to tell them the news. After you are done at Whiterun, come to Solitude and join the Imperial Legion. We could use a fighter like you in the ranks."

    She looked around the room at the food laid out and thought of the weapons outside. None of it would truly help her. She also would not feel right taking from a family with such a young child.

    "Thank you for your offer, Alvor, but I am already well prepared," she affirmed. Turning to Hadvar, she nodded and said, "See you 'round, Hadvar."

    Before they could say anything else, she rushed out the door and down the stoop. This...  _dragon_  that spoke to her in words she did not understand, yet felt like she should, had indirectly saved her life only to further cripple her quest to see Olin at least one last time. At one point, the dragon had bellowed 'vole tour shul' _. Or was it 'vaul toe shul'?_ She was unsure of the first two words, but was certain the third was 'shul'. Olin once told her that the 'sol' in her name was Nordic for 'sun' and that the Nordic language was influenced by the dragons due to their enslavement by the winged monsters. A nervous laugh escaped her when it finally sunk in that an actual dragon had shouted at her.

    Anxiety crawled up her throat as she pushed away her musings and thought of what she was about to do. This was not like her showing weakness or asking for help or even talking for that matter. Now resting against the wall of the town on the side facing the wilderness, she pulled out the wrapped fish from the top of her bag and examined it. It was a pretty pink salmon with good weight to it and she had cooked it with care after tending to her own meal. Normally men were receptive of food as a gift. Her crew mates were. Food was the staple of life after all. Perhaps it was the way she presented it to him.  _I just wanted to be alone,_ she brooded and put the fish in a small sack on her hip used for quick retrieval _.  
_  
    The fish issue was merely an ice breaker that would hopefully lead her to what she really wanted though. Alfsol needed someone to show her the way to Whiterun, but also to deter ne'er-do-wells. She thought of Hadvar, but his ties to the Empire were too strong for her tastes. Wherever the Empire was, the Thalmor were close behind looking for people who did not bend under their rule. She needed another loner and someone who would not poke his nose in her business to accompany her. 

    Swallowing her pride, but more so her panic, Alfsol pushed herself away from the wall to snatch an abandoned apple lying on the ground. Food would help her get through this. Vigorously rubbing dirt off the apple as if the act would banish her anxiety, she strode purposefully to the inn's steps with her head held high. Two men stood in front of the inn that she faintly recalls stumbling past the night before. 

    "Oi, oi! Look at this fine lass. She's a beauty that looks a bit parched. I think I may offer to buy her a pint of brew," goes the one in a bear cloak. Alfsol's brows rose up to hide underneath her bandanna as she turned to face the bold man.

    "Not if I get to her before you. You always go after the pretty women and leave the beasts for the rest of us," went the other male.  _How vulgar,_ she thought as she swiftly pulled out her dagger from under her cloak _._

_"_ I can't help it if women find me fasci-," the first man stopped as he saw the glint of her blade, his eyes widening in shock.

    A wet, light  _crunch_ sounded as she plunged the dagger into the apple's core with the tip protruding from the other side almost cutting her hand. Grinning, she turned directly to the men and waggled the apple still speared on the dagger at them.

    "Know that my prick is bigger than yours," she said giving an open mouth smile. 

    The dagger made a sickly noise as Alfsol tore it from the apple to wipe it on her leathers and replace it in her cloak. She knew the two men were harmless, at least to her, but she honestly could not help herself. Plus, she needed the apple cut one way or another so it may as well have been dramatic. The man in black was right besides the door of the inn under the shade of the roofing. Somehow in the light of day, this man had managed to remain at least halfway in shadows.  _A useful skill,_ she noted as she made her way to him. The man pierced her with a hard look made of two honey color eyes and a five o'clock shadow with his arms folded as she trotted up the stairs.  _Rip._  She had torn the apple in two by the core from tensing up and now juice ran down her hands.

    "Ya' know, you hurt my lil' elf feelings by not accepting my gift," she laughed.

    "You mean that filthy fish you threw at my head, wretch?"

    "I overshot it by accident. I only wanted to make sure you received it. I'm sorry if I grazed your head with a fish, but I have a pr-"

    Standing at full height now, the man cut her off, "problem? Hey, if you're looking for someone to kiss your boots-"

    "Do I look like one who needs boot kissing? And I was going to say-"

    "I suggest looking elsewh-"

    "PROPOSAL," she snapped quickly.

    Looking perplexed, the man simply asked, "What?"

    "Listen, I'm really tired," Alfsol began to explain. "You're not from here and neither am I. Both of us look extremely out of place and have lingered too long for a passing drink so obviously we both need something. A simple exchange of favors is what I am offering. Correct me if I'm wrong and I'll gladly leave."

    The man narrowed his eyes at her and looked as if he was going to object for a moment. Now it was her turn to fold her arms and give a mean look. For several moments they sized each other up like two competing beasts for rank and territory. 

    "Fine even though I feel as if I am somehow being coerced into this deal," he snarled. "I was tracking my wolf, Karnwyr, around here. We were separated while hunting a week ago. I've been hearing rumors of bandits holding pit fights somewhere around this region. He's all I've got, and that's the only lead. So I'm off to shut them down before something happens to him."

    "Simple enough. Yeah... I can aide in your pursuit."

    "Enthusiasm like that could get a girl like you in trouble," he exhaled. "If they're running a ring, then there's probably going to be more than just a few bandits. If you sincerely want to come, I wouldn't complain about my odds. I could certainly do worse for company."

    "Let's go for it then," she quickly said and went to run off the steps when he grabbed her by the shoulder. Alfsol froze to look at the hand and back to the man that it belonged to.

    "Hold up," he said curtly. "I need to make something clear before we set off. I don't trust anyone, not even the man pouring my drink. The only two things I trust anymore are myself, and my wolf. Got it?"

    "Well then you are a fool because you should never trust yourself," she chided him as she brushed off his hand rather roughly and moved to stand beside him away from the stairs. Biting into the apple and chewing, she tried to appear reassuring. "Don't worry we will find the wolf."

    "Oh, I have no doubts about that. I'm only concerned about how long it'll take. He would have already done the same for me by now. Before you jump to any stupid assumptions or try to get him to lick your hand, Karnwyr is not a pet. That wolf and I have been together since I was seventeen. He's closer to me than... than a brother. Got that?"

    "Wait... by the Nine," she gasped before the rest of her thoughts could make it out, almost choking on the apple. "How old is this wolf? Nine or ten?"

    "More or less," he stated.

    "And you say he's not a pet."  What softness had appeared on his face from talking about his friend swiftly dissipated.  She hastily kept speaking, "Never mind. I love animals what with me being a bloody wood elf and all."

    "Oh, is that right? What am I supposed to think? That you like ponies and fluffy bunnies and had a fox as a pet?"

    "Well, horses have their uses, but I rather have a mule for various reasons." Alfsol rubbed her chin as she continued, "I also tend to eat rabbits a lot lately so I guess I like them, but they are no longer bunnies and they are far from fluffy. As a child, I did have a fox for a friend and she often visited me in the summers so you got me there."

    He looked at her like she had baby dreughs crawling out of her ears and mouth. "You asked me what you were supposed to think. Know that."

    "Let's get a move on," he finally declared after a few seconds of silence, possibly regretting every life choice that led him to that point in time. "Every minute we waste here, Karnwyr is being held against his will. And probably worse."

    "Probably," she bluntly stated without thought. "Oh yeah, what is your name? Tell it now or be subjected to a sequence of grunts used to identify your presence."

    "Bishop."

    "Terrific. I'm Alfsol and only Alfsol. And I only have one golden rule," she lowered her voice so it was just him who could hear. "Do not ever touch my person or possessions without explicit permission given by me. For your safety of course."

    Before Bishop could muster a reply, she had already jumped off the porch and made her way down the road that led towards the bridge as she ate her apple.


End file.
